Playing With Holy Oil And Matches
by xtexboyx
Summary: Inspired by Elocin Muse's These Wicked Precious Things, this will be my collection of short one shots of Megstiel/Megstielish stories.
1. Mine

**Mine**

Meg backed up into an oak tree with a wide trunk, pulling an unconscious Castiel along. When an angel crammed themselves into a human vessel it makes the body unnaturally heavy, but the combination of human adrenaline and demon strength allowed her to move him. Meg sat down with her back to the tree, one arm hugging the angel's neck, while the other fished for his sword. Clarence had a cut on his head and another wound somewhere hidden on his torso. Angelic grace and human blood infused together to drip down on her arm and to soak through her jeans. Wherever it came in contact with her skin, it left a numbing sensation.

From the encompassing mist, five figures stepped into view making a half circle around the pair. When the demon located the angelic blade, she pulled it from its concealed location and brandished the weapon toward her would be assailants. At sight of the sword, all ceased their encroachment on her position simultaneously. Some looked around at each other before all the members of the group focused on one man to Meg's right, and her gaze followed to him as well.

"Mine!" Meg growled as she aimed to make her voice carry a quality of 'don't fuck with me' to it. For good measure, her eyes snapped to the darkest black. During that time, her armed wrapped around Clarence's neck pulling him in tighter.

"Give us the angel, whore." The man to her right said with gravel in his voice.

Werewolves, that's what the five standing before her were. That meant the dipshit who just spoke to her was the strongest with the rest of pack looking to him for the decision making. He was tall, wearing jeans and a striped blue button up long sleeve shirt. From what Meg could discern he was also the eldest, looking to be in his late 20's, while the others seemed to be of college age. Still, looks could be deceiving when it came to supernatural beings. Also, why does everyone assume as a female demon she was a whore? Sadly, it had been quite some time since Meg had – well that didn't matter right now.

"I have a better idea for you. Why don't you make like Balto and run." She replied as the demon squarely trained the angel blade toward the tall werewolf.

"We will not. You," he pointed first to Meg and then to Castiel, "and him have trespassed on our territory."

"Well, I'm sorry White Fang. I must of have missed the piss markers on the trees back there." Meg apologized disingenuously.

White Fang snarled at her, and the demon returned her own snarl right back. He coiled as though he was about to spring into attack.

"Come on try it, Beethoven!" She waved the blade in a warning. The werewolf froze still, stiller than any normal human could of managed, only his eyes moved watching the movement of the sword.

To her left, two other werewolves leaned towards each other and spoke quietly, but she could make out what they said. The first to speak was a blonde man wearing that stupid black Rolling Stones lips t-shirt that every college boy seem to have in their wardrobe.

"Hey how many dog references do you think she's going to make. I mean she's got to be running out right?" He asked.

The man he spoke to looked like a frat rat if Meg ever saw one with his polo shirt and khaki shorts. "I don't know man, there are a lot of them." He answered.

"Really?" Rolling Stones asked.

"Yeah, there's Benji and Lassie. And what's that dog's name from Tom and Jerry?" Frat boy replied looking up to the sky, trying to rack his brain for the answer.

"That dog had a name?"

"Didn't it?"

"Are you two high?" Meg interrupted, incredulous at the two for being either so unaware or obtuse to the current predicament they were all in.

For an answer, Rolling stones raised his right hand and used his index finger and thumb in a 'just a little bit' gesture. Frat boy only gave a small nod in the affirmative. Well that explained that, she thought, and Meg rolled her eyes. Even White Fang shook his head in disgust at the two morons. However, his attention soon turned back to the demon.

"Only silver can kill us." The tall werewolf said, assured of that truth.

"Are you sure about that Rin Tin Tin? Why don't you take a look behind those two idiots?" She nodded past Rolling Stones and Frat Boy. "You'll find two of your pack dead there."

White Fang nodded to the rest of his compadres, "Watch her." They nodded, and he jogged in the direction that she had indicated.

When Meg had arrived, she found Castiel passed out and bleeding with a female and male werewolf standing over him. Meg didn't care, for the moment, or know neither how the angel had arrived there nor how he received his injuries. Discussing what they should do, the female werewolf campaigned for her mate to eat the angel's heart. That one thought devouring the heart of an angel would make her mate invincible, and then he could rise to be the alpha male of the pack.

After overhearing that conversation, Meg lost control and saw red with rage. They dared to take that which was hers? Perhaps silver was the only way mortals could kill werewolves, but she wasn't mortal. Demons were on top of the supernatural food chain with angels and perhaps alphas as the only beings above them. In her fury, she had ripped the two apart and tore their hearts out with her bare hands. After Meg had regained her calm, she found herself towering over two mangled corpses. Blood and gore was strewed all about her, and it had splattered her clothes. As she was trying to get Clarence to safety, was when the rest of the pack had discovered her and the angel's presence.

The leader returned, running back. "I'll kill you, bitch!" His canines were now elongated, and he frothed at the mouth. For the first time, the two stoner werewolves showed some actual intelligence and restrained White Fang. They had saved their leader's life, because Meg wouldn't have hesitated to take it.

"No. You. Won't." She annunciated each word for emphasis. It wasn't boasting but simple truth. Unless they could have taken Castiel's sword away from her, as if that would happen, they literally had no means to kill her. "So," she continued, "unless you want to end up like Lady and the Tramp back there, you'll leave now and think yourselves lucky that I have bigger problems on my mind than you five."

White Fang stared daggers at her for a minute, but then he stared down. He had visibly calmed down, but Meg could still see his sharp fangs. "Let's go." He said, his canines making him mumble the words.

"Go home, boy, go home!" The demon really had no power to stop herself from adding more insult to injury.

"This isn't over!" He yelled at her.

"Yeah, yeah." She shrugged. "Bigger, bader things than you have threatened me and then followed up on those threats." Meg gave the werewolf her wolfish smile. "Yet I'm still around. So, just go smell each other's butts or whatever your kind do, but don't ever get in my way." While she still smiled, her face became harder for the last of those words.

Soon, Meg and Castiel were alone in the forest, and she released a sigh of relief and lowered the angelic blade.

"You're really starting to rack up a tab with me you know that angel?" She asked the unconscious form in her lap.

As if answering her question, the angel grunted in his sleep. She checked to see if the cloud hopper was still out cold. He was. Afterwards, she made quick examinations of his wounds and found they had healed or were on their way to being so. Confident that both of them were in no more real immediate danger, she let herself relax against the tree. Her one arm still held the angel's head, and her other hand moved to stroke his blood matted hair. When he would awaken, she was going to make him explain why he was out here.

In a dark, soft whisper in his ear she told the angel, "You don't get to die without my permission, angel. Do you understand me, Clarence? You're mine."

_Yeah, I don't know I just had to put in stoner werewolves. Still, thanks for reading. Please review and more stories are on their way. _


	2. What We Do Every Night

_Post Episode 8x17 AU: Meg survives and teams up with Castiel to become hunters._

**What We Do Every Night**

Meg was furious, and that was never good news for anyone. Her and Clarence's case had been and entire bust. They had been lured to this town by the rumors that someone or something had discovered yet another weapon of Heaven. This night had been a setup for the demon and the angel, and it had almost worked. Only after she and Castiel had decided to split up, had their opponents sprang their trap. She had been lured into a demon circle and could only assume that the angel had also been captured.

Divide and conquer. It was a good strategy, with only one flaw in whoever's master plan: idiots. The bad guys were complete morons. When stuck in the demon trap, one hooded man clothed in an ornate robe with strange symbols began reciting the exorcism incantation from a leather bound journal. While reading, the man inadvertently adventured too close to the demon circle. The dumbass soon found out it was pretty hard to speak the exorcism ritual after she ripped off his lower jaw.

The blood that poured out broke the demon circle, and she was free. The two compatriots of the injured man had just stood there too stun to move which was just fine with Meg. She didn't like to expend any more energy than necessary when it came to slaughtering people. As for the person who now lacked the bottom of his mouth, she had left him there. Meg figured that would be worse than death if the man did indeed survive. Although if anyone asked, she would claim she was practicing being merciful now that she was fighting for the side of good.

Being good. Now that was still a foreign concept that Meg didn't know what to think of. There were many grey areas of good and evil, she knew, and Meg definitely fell into a very dark shade of grey when it came to being one of the good guys. Still, the fact that she was any shade of good still gnawed at her sometimes or maybe what was more troubling to her was what she gave up evil for: a hot piece of angel tail.

Her thoughts were interrupted as she almost fell off the rooftop she was on. Roof tiles sled off the edge and then feel down into the street below shattering on impact. The noise from the ceramic tiles rang loud into what was an otherwise silent and cold night. Meg cursed herself for her clumsiness, and continued running on the rooftops toward Castiel. The near misstep only fueled her anger, and she swore she would break the neck of the first she saw. Any other ponderings about her life choices on good and evil would just have to wait.

The direction she ran had not been the one she had last seen Clarence going in, but she knew that he was this way. Neither the demon nor the angel knew how it had happened, but each could now sense where the other was. Castiel had been extremely curious about that, but Meg had just marked it up to the side effects of fucking an angel.

Even though Meg was already quite inaudible to any human, she ceased running and crouched low as she approached the end of this roof. Past the edge, she would find Clarence, and Meg was right. Ten feet below her was the angel, trapped in a holy fire circle. Surrounding him were three robed and hooded figures just like the ones that had attempted to capture her. Her first instinct was to jump down there, kill everyone, free the angel, and then fuck him on top of his capturers' corpses. Instead, she reigned in on that impulse and decided to eavesdrop on the conversation that was already in progress.

"… angel. You have no hopes of killing me." Clarence glowered darkly at one of the robed men. "What is the purpose of trapping me?"

"You are to be our sacrifice to our great lord." The hooded figure answered back with way too much dramatic flair for Meg's taste.

"And, who is your lord." Castiel asked.

"Why Hades of course," the man said as though the angel should have already known that. "We are the Cult of Hades. After we have summoned him here and offer you as a sacrifice, he will shower us with riches!"

Meg rolled her eyes. Not only were these idiots were going to summon Hades, the pussified version of Lucifer, they thought they were going to be rewarded for it. For a second, she thought maybe she should just let them perform their ritual so they could find out first hand that Hades wasn't the lovable Disney cartoon with blue fire for hair. However, if she did that, Clarence might end up getting hurt or killed. On the other hand, a boxing match between Castiel and Hades would be interesting to watch. Meg shook her head. No, she would go down and save that unicorn of hers.

As the three men began to chant, Meg leapt down from her hiding place without making a noise. She snuck up to the closest man in front of her and, with a flick of her right hand, snapped his neck. He fell wordlessly in a heap to the ground. The other two hooded figures had never heard her, but when the man she had killed stopped reciting his portion of the ritual, they took notice. These two stood there in unbelieving silence just like the morons who had tried to exorcise her. They were just as easy to dispatch as well.

After she had freed the angel, he checked her over for any injuries. She didn't protest anymore, because he would just do it either way. As Meg stood there in front of Castiel being checked over, she realized her previous thoughts good and evil didn't matter. Fighting monsters with an angel by her side, this was her purpose now, and she was content.

"I believe there were never any weapons here," he said after he was satisfied she had not received any wounds.

"Oh, Clarence." Meg drawled as she patted him on the cheek. "What would we do without your Sherlock skills?" She smiled and turned to walk away. "C'mon let's go."

"What do we do now?" He asked

"The same thing we do every night."

"What's that?"

"Stop Evil from taking over the world and then go fuck somewhere."

_Pinky and the Brain reference anyone?_


	3. How Meg Discovered Castiel Is A Bad Cook

_Author's note: I guess this is an AU story. I guess any story with Meg still alive has to be. It's set right after 8x17._

How Meg Discovered Castiel Is A Bad Cook

The raid on one of Crowley's headquarters hadn't really gone to Meg's plans. In fact, the preverbal shit had hit the fan, been gathered back up, and then dropped back into the same fan. Ensnared in a demon trap, Meg had no choice but to watch as the angel, _her _angel, took the beating of a lifetime. Crowley's bastard lickspittles surrounded Castiel, after he had been unarmed, and were literally curb stomping on him. Standing over them was the King of Hell, spectating the gruesome scene with unadulterated sadistic pleasure.

While Meg watched, a fierce snarl had become a permanent fixture on her face. Her eyes were the utmost black, and she hadn't been able to return them to their normal brown for some time now. The feeling of being helpless, seeing Castiel take an epic punishment, and Crowley's mere presence formed the trifecta of pissing her off. No, scratch that; Meg was beyond pissed. The best available words in the English language that might possibly describe her state of mind with any given accuracy was totally, absolutely, and insanely fucking enraged.

The gall of the situation, however, was that this catastrophe had been all her fault. She had gotten a tip from one of her old contacts who owed her a favor back from the days of the Apocalypse. It was obvious now that the person had double crossed her. Meg would have to remember to thank him appropriately once she got out of here, if she got out of here. Based on that information, she had hoped to catch Crowley unaware in his base, spend some overdue quality time with him, and then stab him more times than necessary with an angel blade. Best laid plans of demons and mice, because Crowley had been waiting for her. So to recap, it had been _her_ information from _her_ rat informant and _her_ plan that had went sideways, and it had been _her_ that convinced the angel to come along. For that last part, she experienced a new feeling alien to her: guilt.

Meg shook her head violently as to expel those thoughts from her mind. She didn't have time for self-pity. There were demons just outside this trap that were in dire need of her boot up their ass, especially their so called king. It was up to her to find a way out to do just that. Her mind raced, weighing the options. She didn't have anything on her to break the trap, like Crowley had done years ago with the Winchesters' demon knife, and angel couldn't be counted on for her rescue seeing as he was a bit busy getting his ass kicked. Another tinge of guilt went through her when her thoughts revisited the angel's predicament.

At first, Castiel had put up a hell of fight, killing over a dozen demons, but their numbers had been too great. He hadn't been able to make with his Star Trek impersonation and teleport him and her away, either. Crowley had apparently put up wards to prevent just that when the two had entered the building. She suspected she wouldn't be able to smoke out even if she could, either. After they had succeeded in disarming the angel from his angel blade, hell hounds were sent in, and Castiel had fell with almost an entire cohort of demons mobbing him. That was when they had started taken their hate of angel kind out on him.

Crowley had stood and witnessed it all, not saying a word or even asking a question in interrogation at all. This had been the revenge he had so long craved. Yes, Meg knew what drove Crowley well. You didn't live long as a demon if you couldn't sum up your enemies, otherwise. Castiel had twice taken something from the King of Hell and got away with it twice. That was a threat to Crowley's authority because other demons might have construed such things as weakness, and weakness couldn't be tolerated by the Legions of Hell. He needed to move decisively to consolidate his power base, and the only way to do that was to punish the angel that stole from him. Yet, this was also personal for the King of Hell as well. Crowley was at his core a crossroads demon, and if there was anything they considered sacred, it was that bargains made were bargains honored. Castiel had gone back on his deal when he had kept all the souls of Purgatory for himself. That was entirely unforgivable to Crowley.

Speaking of the devil, so to speak, just then, Crowley began to saunter in his patented dickish arrogant manner to where Castiel lied. Demons bowed their heads in submission as he shouldered by them to get a better look at the angel. Meg couldn't really see the angel as other demons blocked her view, but she could hear the exchange between the Angel of Thursday and the King of Hell.

"Ah Castiel, it's so good you could join us." Crowley said in his vague Scottish accent. "I do hope you found our hospitality to your liking." Demons chuckled at his shitty joke. Suck ups, she thought. "You even brought your demon whore with you. It must be Christmas and my birthday. I'm going to so much enjoy grinding you both to dust," he continued.

"Don't you dare harm her," Castiel's voice came out in a pained whisper, but his voice still carried divine authority which angered Crowley.

"Do you think you're in a position to tell me what to do!?" Crowley snarled and gave two vicious kicks to the angel's gut, and Meg let out a primal, inhuman growl. "You insignificant self-righteous fuck!" The King of Hell screamed but then took a depth breath to calm himself. He knelt down and grabbed the angel by the hair and whispered, "Oh I'm going to hurt her and hurt her badly, because I know you Castiel. For some reason you have a soft spot for the whore. And you'll tell me where you hid the angel tablet after I make the bitch scream, but you don't have to worry about that right now." Crowley slammed the angel's head back on the floor before standing straight up again. "I'm satisfied with just hurting you for now." With that, he resumed kicking the down Castiel.

That was the last straw. It had been bad enough observing the other demons hurting Castiel, but seeing Crowley do it was maddening. Also, Meg would be damned, well damned again, if she would be used as leverage against the angel. That was when Meg decided she didn't give a flying fucking fuck that the laws of the universe dictated that a demon couldn't break a trap with sheer will alone, because that was what she was about to do. As such, Meg took one step toward the perimeter of the circle entrapping her.

It was like moving through sand and tar all at the same time. Pain flared through her as every nerve ending in her meat suit was set on fire. And that was what happen on just the first step. Meg found herself glad that the circle was not that big, only a few feet in radius, because the pain and difficulty of moving forward grew exponentially with each step. However, Meg was a graduate from the school of hard knocks. Hell, she had gotten a PhD in pain from the tutelage of Professor Alastair. While what she endured right now rated really high on the Shit-That-Hurts-o'meter, she had experienced worse, and with five small agonizing steps later, she made it to the end of the trap. There she found a wall of dense invisible energy that was her last barrier to escape.

At some point, while Meg had been focusing on each step toward freedom, a demon must have had made notice of her attempts to break out and pointed it out to rest. Demons all around stopped paying attention to Crowley and his angel captive and watched her instead in absolute amazement. Only the ones near the angel, well the smart ones, anyway, didn't take their eyes off Castiel. Even the King of Hell took notice, and he shoved his minions out of the way to get an unobstructed view of Meg.

"You stupid whore. What do you think you are doing?" Crowley sounded nonchalant and maybe even amused by her attempts, but she could hear the undertone of worry in his voice, or at least she thought she could. "No demon has ever escaped a trap on their own."

Meg truly wanted to respond with some snarky remark to the bastard, but she had to keep all her attention on the task at hand. Slowly she lifted her arms up. Even that small movement felt like pushing against a strong current of water. Oh, in case you were wondering, the pain hadn't receded either. If anything, it had double what it had been. Slowly, she pushed her hands into that wall of energy as though she was trying to part some transparent curtains. Sparks flared on contact with her fingers as they pushed through. Flames erupted on her hands, burning her so severely that there was not even any meat left on parts of her fingers. There was flicker of light that briefly illuminated the outline of the barrier. Then Meg, with a grunt of effort, pulled her arms, and a small tear reluctantly formed in the trap's wall.

She struggled to widen the tear, but the demon trap fought back trying to seal itself shut again. Meg strained so hard that her bones creaked under the forces exerted on them, and she had trouble repairing the fractures that were forming. The blood vessels in her brain hemorrhaged, and her nose began to bleed profusely. On top of that, she could feel the demon part of herself being damaged as well. And yes, in case you were wondering again, her whole body was still experiencing unholy agony. However, despite her valiant effort, she had only caused an opening that was barely the breadth of her knuckle.

Now, Meg was many things, but never could someone have called her a quitter. Yet, her strength was failing fast, and the rip in the barrier was slowly closing again. For a brief second, she was ready to admit defeat, let the trap seal shut, and wait for her fate at the hands of Crowley. Maybe she could find a way to kill herself before Crowley could use her against the angel was the only hopeful thought she had left. Castiel, however, wouldn't be so lucky to have a quick death. Crowley would never be the torturer she was, but he was no slouch either.

Looking up at that moment, she saw that the demons had parted in such a way that she could see was finally able to view Castiel, and he was staring at her. His look might have conveyed astonishment like everyone else in the room watching her, but it was hard to discern for sure. The angel's face was unrecognizable from the beating he had took. Never had she seen him in such a sorry state. Blood painted almost his entire head and one of his eyes was sealed shut from major swelling. His mouth was open like he was gaping at her, but it was more likely that he just couldn't close it because the rest of his face was just as swollen.

That look was all it took for Meg to reinforce her resolve and redouble her efforts. She poured all the demonic power she had left into her hands, leaving nothing behind in reserve. She grounded her teeth and began to pull at the opening again. More sparks flew from the barrier where it and her power meet. Soon, the tear had doubled in size, then it doubled again, and even doubled once more to where she could of stuck her arm through, and she continued to open it further.

"No way," Crowley said, fear and surprise evident in his voice and on his face. "No bloody way!" He began to back up from the unbelievable sight, fading back into his horde of minions. That's right, run Crowley, Meg thought, I'm coming for you, you dickless coward. As for the rest of the demons, any who hadn't been gawking at her before were doing so now. Some of the brighter ones even began to silently slip out the nearest exits.

While Meg continued to steadily pull the trap;s wall open, movement caught her eye. Castiel was back on his feet and took advantage of the situation by silently dispatching demons. He did so by using one hand to cover a demon's mouth to muffle any scream and the other to cover the eyes to block the light generated as he smote them. That was good, but Meg knew she couldn't stop what she was doing. If she did, the demons would realize the angel was loose and take him down again, leaving her and him right back where they began. A thought crossed her mind causing a wicked smile to adorn her face. Hell, at this point she wouldn't stop no matter what. She was going to be the first demon to break out of a trap, with will alone. That thought drove her even harder.

When the barrier's wall had been opened about a foot wide, lightening began to dance all around the circle. The lights in the room started to flicker at the release of such raw energy. Meg read this as a sign that the trap was entering critical mass, and she _would_ know. She had caused Chernobyl after all, but that was another story. With one last great effort, she yelled out a testament of her will as she flung her arms fully apart which tore the barrier wide open, destroying the trap.

What happened right after, Meg wasn't quite sure. A flash of bright light left her blind. She assumed there had been a loud bang, as well, but a pressure wave, like one caused by large explosions, had ruptured her eardrums before she could hear any such noise. The wave had also left her discombobulated and telling up from down was almost impossible. She had dropped to her knees, or at least she thought she was on her knees. Her body was just too numb and her equilibrium was gone to be positive. In other words, if someone wanted to kill her, Meg was fucked.

Her warrior's instinct told her to get up, that lying on the ground was good as being dead, but none of her limbs were responding. Reaching inside, Meg tried to gather any power she had left, but there was none. She was a sitting duck, and she knew there had been some of Crowley's goons not so far away. Most likely, the angel couldn't get to her fast enough even if tried, because he would have to fight his way over to do so. There seem to be bleak hope for her immediate survival, but she was starting to find herself to exhausted to care. So, she prepared herself for some demon to come and finish her off or at least be gang tackled and beaten like they had done to Castiel.

But none of that ever came.

It must have been almost a minute before she felt a soft pressure on her shoulder, but the touch didn't startle Meg in the least. She knew instantly who it was beside her even before any of her deadened senses had been restored. Breaking out of the demon trap might have left her deaf, dumb, and blind. However her nose was still perfectly functional, and she would know the smell of Castiel anywhere. His scent was, well he smelled holy for a lack of a better term, like all angels did, although he had something of a taint to his scent. A sigh of relief escaped from her throat as she realized they both were getting out of here alive.

"Meg," Castiel's voice sounded as though he was calling her name down some long tunnel as her ears began to repair. Her vision started to come back as well, and although still blurry, she could recognize Castiel's face. The angel took noticed of this and called out her name again, "Meg, are you alright?"

"Yeah, just peachy." Her voice came out in a rasp, and Castiel smiled. If Meg was being a smartass, she would be okay, he knew. He squeezed her shoulder gently. Just that soft touch was enough to actually be painful, but she didn't say anything. Meg wasn't some whiny Winchester after all.

As her sight became sharper, she commenced taking note of her surroundings. Bodies with burn marks around their eyes and mouths were strewn about. That was the angel's work, she knew, but there were too few of them to account for the cohort that had just been there. Had that many demons ran away when she got free? Meg then noticed the walls around her. They were entirely covered in black scorch marks except in some places where human shaped outlines were left unmarked. It reminded her of the aftermath of a demon bomb.

"What happened?" She asked Castiel while still taking in her surroundings.

With all seriousness, Castiel answered, "You escaped from the demon trap."

"No, shit?" Meg said as though the new actually surprised her and then rolled her eyes. She tried to shake her head at him as well but was too tired for that nonsense. "I mean after that, you overgrown Dodo."

"Oh," Castiel said ignoring the barb, "When you broke the trap, the energy contained by the demon trap was released. Most of the demons were destroyed by the ensuing shock wave. I think you survived though, because you were in the epicenter of that blast."

"Makes sense." Meg agreed and then took a second to study Castiel. The angel was completely healed as if nothing had happened. Even his clothes were back in order. A part of her hated him for that, because she knew that she looked like lemur poo on top of Yeti vomit. Yeah, that might sound funny, but Meg had seen Yeti puke before. It's really nasty stuff. "I guess you were immune to the shockwave?" She asked.

"No, but I used two demons to shield me." He answered.

"Nice," Meg said with approval. It seemed like everything worked out, but there was something nagging at her. She was exhausted and her thoughts were muddled, but still there was a feeling that she was forgetting something. Her eyes widened as the gears in her brain finally began to turn again. Forgetting her tiredness, she grabbed Castiel's trench coat lapels with both hands and stared into his blue eyes.

"Crowley! What happened to Crowley!?" She demanded to know. "Did you get the asshole?"

"No," Castiel shook his head in regret. "He was one of the first to run away."

"Damnit, he would. That smarmy, arrogant, goat-fucking, motherless," For almost an entire minute, Meg continued her string of derogatory adjectives about Crowley's person. Some of the terms, Castiel had to raise an eyebrow at, "dickless, ball-less bastard." She finished.

"Indeed," Castiel agreed.

Meg let go of the angel's coat, but before she slumped back down to the ground, he picked her up, placing one arm under her legs and the other under her back. Standing up right, he looked at the demon he held and asked, "Meg, how did you do it? No demon has ever done what you did."

"Proper motivation," She said quietly, fatigue driving her to give a straight short answer. For a brief, meaningful moment, their eyes meet. Castiel didn't press Meg to elaborate. They both knew what that motivation had been.

"You're injured." Castiel said softly, breaking the silence, and she knew he wasn't referring to the damage to her meat suit. "I don't want to leave you alone in such a weaken state. I insist I stay with you while you heal."

"Oh, really?" Drawling the words, she gave the angel a sultry look and a smile that promised many naughty and sinful things to happen in the near future. For most, such a seductive look would have been muted by the dried blood on thier face. For Meg, the blood actually enhanced it. She leaned her head towards his so that her lips were merely an inch away from his. Placing a charred index finger on the side of his chin, she asked, "And what are we going to do with all that time together, Feathers?"

"I think I can think of something," Castiel said, returning a small wicked grin of his own.

"I bet you can." Meg said as her angel started walking, carrying her to the somewhere safe.

_**Later that evening…**_

"This isn't what I had in mind, Clarence," Meg said sourly.

She was sitting upright on a motel bed, her back against the backboard with a pillow in between for padding. A cold compress sat on top of her head. No shit, Castiel had forced her to wear it, and it wasn't just any compress. It was one of the old ones made with thick red rubber that you stick ice in. Meg had no freaking clue where the angel had found it. Her hands had also been delicately wrapped with gauze by Castiel who had taken it upon himself to become her nurse. Her overbearing and celibate nurse at that. She wouldn't have mind playing doctor with the angel if there had been some "physical therapy" involved, but he insisted that she was in no condition for such exertion. Yet, most annoying of it all was that she found his actions actually endearing.

"I know," he said apologetically, offering what looked like some sort of soup he had prepared.

Meg looked at the bowl and then back at the angel. "You know, I don't have to eat. Demon, damnit!" She exclaimed and wondered if the angel had really stopped going coco for Cocoa Puffs.

"Of course, you don't have to," Castiel replied with a matter of fact tone while sitting down on the side of the bed, facing her with the bowl still offered. "However, the less you have to heal and sustain your vessel, the faster you will heal."

For a few seconds, Meg tried staring Castiel down, but he was obviously unperturbed. Sighing, she snatched the bowl from him, and quickly put a spoonful of the soup in her mouth. Hey eyes went wide and immediately spat it out with most of the expelled contents ending up on Castiel's face.

And that's how Meg discovered Castiel is a bad cook.

**The End**

_Yeah, bet you were wondering what the hell does story have to do with this title. Well, now you know, now you know. Comment if you like it. Or don't, I'll still keep writing._


	4. Feeding Trolls

**FEEDING TROLLS**

In a small town, U.S.A, where only a couple thousand people called home, the day had started almost perfectly. A cold front had moved in the previous night, and it had cooled what should have been an unbearable, blistering hot summer day. Even past noon, the temperature hadn't so much as reached above 80 degrees. Many of the town residents were consuming their midday meals outside one of the few local eateries that wasn't a major fast food franchise, enjoying the inexplicable weather. Yes, the day was very nearly perfect.

Perfect, that is, right up to the point a speeding demon projectile wrecked not only the diner but the peaceful day, as well. Patrons ran screaming as a hole was blown through the wall of the diner.

"FUCK!" Meg yelled out in anger. Pushing off the debris that had once been a table, chairs, and someone's blue plate special of the day, Meg regained her feet. The movement caused a small stabbing pain in her lower left back side, and she twisted her body in search of the source. Meg swore again, this time under her breath, as she pulled out the fork lodged in her ass. Well that damn hell hound just won't hunt. After throwing the bloody fork away, she used that bit of humiliation she felt as kindling for her rage. With her nerves steeled and anger thoroughly stoked, she ran back through the hole to reengage her assailant.

And just as quickly as she left, she was thrown right back inside. This instance, her body was launched through a window. Yeah, the bastard hadn't even had the decency to knock her back into the hole she had painstakingly just made. Asshole. Her unintended flight path then continued taking her through a support beam, snapping it like a twig, and next through three sets of chairs and tables until she made her landing through the diner's counter.

"Fuck," Meg repeated, although now it was more of groan instead of a yell of defiance.

"I could assist you if you would like," a voice sounded nearby.

Once again, Meg stood up, having to exert a little more effort to do so this time. She leaned on the counter to stare at the trench coat wearing angel in front of the counter. Castiel sat on a bar stool a few feet down from her, sniffing a discarded cup of coffee until he wrinkled his nose and sat the coffee back down. He never looked at her. Instead he picked up a nearby newspaper and pretended to read its contents, a small smile played at the corners of his lips. Meg, still using the counter as support, moved down until she was directly in front of the angel. Shards of glass, which had been lodged in her back during her graceful entrance, fell to the ground as her accelerated healing push them out.

"And loose the bet? Not on your life," She countered. "Mark my words, Clarence: you will be my bitch starting tonight."

Confused? Okay, here's what's up. A troll had been apparently stirred out of its hibernation for whatever reason and was wreaking havoc on nearby small towns. As far as supernatural creatures go, trolls ranked in the upper tier in terms of being nasty and mean, and they were strong too, even on demon standards. However, their desires didn't go past farther than obtaining just two things: food, preferably fish, and beer, or some other alcohol. Most of the old tales of trolls were true. Back in the day, they would collect those items as a toll from people trying to cross their bridge where they lived under. If said person didn't have one or the other, well that just sucked for them. Today, they still lived under bridges mostly but are rarely seen anymore. In modern times, there's little foot traffic over bridges, and cars were just too damn hard for them to catch. So, they just mostly slept for decades and even centuries at a time. While they slumbered, surrounding plants would grow and the landscape would form around the trolls to camouflage them from sight, hiding their very existence from the world.

The troll that Meg was hunting seemed not to be content to follow suit anymore for reasons unknown and purposely raided inside human communities, which was very odd. Besides that, it acted as a normal troll, seeking out and stealing food and beer from the local stores. According to news reports, it appeared the thing favored Coors Light as its beer of choice, which was just another reason this thing needed to go down. Not even monsters should have that bad of taste in beer. Still, if you didn't count the destruction of property and buildings, there hadn't been much collateral damage. People who were at the wrong place and time and dumbasses who tried to stop the creature had been injured, sure, but there hadn't been any deaths. Yet.

Having nothing better to do and long been pining for a good fight, Meg announced to Castiel that she was going after the troll. In turn, he had insisted he would accompany her stating she would need his help. Yes, you read that right. His exact words had been "you will need my help." Mother. Fucker. Believe it that those five simple one syllable words had almost started a fight right then and there, but it hadn't, although just barely though. Instead, that was when Meg had proposed the bet to Castiel. He could come with her, but if he did, that would be construed as a non-explicit agreement to the bet's terms. There was never any doubt to her that he would come.

The stipulations of said bet were simple. If Meg stopped the troll and saved the town without Castiel's assistance, she would win. Receiving the angel's help in any way made Castiel the winner. Meg's prize on winning was getting to have Castiel as her boy toy for an entire week. Anything that her dark heart lustily desired, Castiel would have to do without question, and she had a list of many naughty things and acts of perversion she had always wanted to do with or to the angel. No, seriously, she had an actual list written out. Actually, there was this one thing Meg had discovered on the internet that involved edible body paints and a goat where one partner would balance on their – wait. Off topic.

Anyway, if the angel won, Meg would be forced to join Castiel on continuing his pilgrimage to make amends for his sins and by extension some of the demon's as well. That last part Meg found laughable. There just wasn't enough time left before the sun exploded and destroyed the planet to atone for all the things she had done. The demon didn't know what his pilgrimage would entail, but it probably involved the c word: Charity. Meg shivered when thinking about how she might have to help on soup lines or drive a Meals On Wheels van around if she did actually lose. No mention was made of how long his Oops-Sorry-I-Fucked-Up Tour might last, but that part didn't bother Meg in the slightest. Call it arrogance, confidence, or maybe it was something else, but for Meg, this contest had already been won before it began.

That had been five days ago, and now it was time for the bet to be settled, one way or the other.

"Yes," Castiel said, continuing the conversation as though he hadn't been interrupted by several paragraphs of plot setup. He looked around at all the destruction surrounding them. "Clearly, you have the advantage in this fight." Times like these made her hate that she had taught the angel sarcasm. Reaching underneath the counter, she pulled out a beer and used her thumb to pop the cap, and immediately turn the bottle upside down to chug what was one of mankind's greatest inventions. "Using your body to punch holes in a building is not a tactic I would have considered." Castiel continued and looked at Meg for the first time. Although his tone was one of thoughtful observation and his face ever stoic, Meg knew better. The angel was amused. Hell, for him this was the equivalent of Castiel laughing his ass off.

Meg wiped her mouth with her forearm, while throwing the empty bottle behind her at the same time. It shattered against the wall behind her. The demon leaned down on the counter to stare directly in the angel's eyes. "Keep it up Clarence, because I'm really going to enjoy this week after I win," she declared as if no other outcome was possible.

Then the demon changed her tone to one that was dark and husky, and it dripped with lust and desire. Her voice was low and almost threatening when she spoke, "I have so many wicked things planned for us to do, Clarence. Soooo many things. And each will be more sinful and depraved than the previous until we start doing stuff to each other that would have made even the people of Gomorrah blush. When I'm finished with you, Tree-Topper, your Grace will be so permanently tainted by what we've done, and you'll never be able to cleanse it, no matter what you do. And do you know what will be the best part of it all, Castiel?" Meg made sure to draw out each syllable of the angel's name before she paused and then moved her head to the side of his so that her lips brushed his earlobe as she whispered, "I'll make sure you enjoy every second so much that when the week is done, you'll beg me to corrupt you more."

The demon made sure to watch the angel's face as she leaned back. His eyes were shut, and he visibly gulped. Meg felt pleased with herself that her words had so noticeably shook him. Oh sure, most of what she had said was complete bullshit, especially about the 'permanently tainted' part. Although, she was most particularly proud of that boast. Hey, it was the angel that had started the shit talking; it wasn't her fault that she was better at it. However, that wasn't to say that Meg would do her damnest to make good on her promises. After less than a second though, Castiel quickly opened his eyes and looked at her as if he hadn't been disturbed at all.

"Very well," He said, and as soon as he spoke the words, Castiel was gone, transporting to somewhere else.

Suddenly, Meg wasn't so sure who was playing who, because as she looked past where the angel had been sitting, she saw the troll. It was barreling right toward her at full speed. The hole in the diner's wall wasn't wide enough for the troll's huge frame, but it tore through as though brick and wall studs were made out of paper. Meg silently admonished herself for her lack of attention. She should have seen the troll earlier; it was freaking huge after all. She should have heard the beast long before now; it was a mouth breather. She should of also have felt the thing's footsteps because each one caused a small enough tremor that would have registered on the Richter scale. However, Meg hadn't noticed. It was because of the damn angel. She never thought clearly when he was around.

The angel had set her up very nicely, and damn it if she wasn't a little proud. Meg's choices were very limited at this point. The troll might not have acceleration, but when it got moving, it got moving. Therefore, there was no way to outrun the thing now. Being behind the diner counter severally limited her mobility. Even if that wasn't the case, the monster was just too damn close and massive to dodge. Meg's tactical awareness, which had been honed by over a few millennia of being a soldier of Hell, came to a single conclusion: This was going to hurt. A lot.

The troll was over nine feet tall and weighed around half a ton. Meg, on the other hand, was just slightly over five feet, give or take a few inches, depending on what shoes she wore, and weighed in at… Well, it really isn't any of your goddamn business what she weighs, now is it? The point is that the physics was not going to be on Meg's side. In fact, after guessing the troll's speed, she estimated the force of impact was going to be between a shit load and a fuck ton. Those figures, of course, being in Newtons.

"Fuck." Meg said a third time in resignation just as the troll lowered his shoulder and slammed into the demon.

This wasn't the first Meg had taken big a hit. Her kicking ass to ass kicked ratio might be pretty damn high, but that didn't mean she hadn't got ass handed to her before. Only once or twice though. Still, the lessons of the past had taught her how to take a huge blow. The key was to let her body go limp. However, it still wasn't easy to do when the equivalent of four NFL linemen were body slamming you.

Meg was then given a quick tour of the kitchen of the diner. Although it happened quickly, she had time to notice that this restaurant had some major health code violations. Next, the troll and she went out the back wall into the main street of the town. The demon was thrown into the pole of the street light, making a Meg size dent in it. Again, the angel appeared beside her.

"You know even if you defeat the troll but destroy the town while doing it, you technically lose the bet." Castiel said.

"Shut up." Meg , queen of quips, fired back and grunted as she stood back up.

When the troll was in the middle of the street, it froze in place when it saw Castiel. It eyed the angel up and down, assessing the threat he posed. Castiel raised his hands slightly, palms open, and backed away from Meg a few steps. Satisfied that the angel wouldn't be an immediate danger, the troll continued to stroll towards Meg. Yet, it didn't get far when another noise caused the monster to stop in its tracks. Everyone looked toward the source of the disturbance.

Tires screeched, as a local sheriff's car, with sirens blaring, peeled out while turning around a corner. The car's tires chirped again when it skidded to a halt fifty yards away from the troll. Two deputies stared wide eyed at the creature. She was pretty sure the younger deputy in the passenger seat pissed himself. Meg couldn't hear the driver, but she read his lips when he said, "Fuck that." Wisely, the deputy put the car's gear into reverse and drove away just as quickly as they had come.

"Smart move, Barney," Meg muttered.

Then, without hesitation, Meg launched herself at the troll, trying to take advantage while it was still distracted. At the last second, the creature turned to face Meg's oncoming offensive. Its first punch was a left jab, but Meg dodged it by sidestepping to the right. Next, a right hook came at her face. She dodged that swing by ducking under the punch. When the troll followed through with its strike, its right knee bent down slightly. Meg used that knee to jump straight up into air so she could bring her own punch to the troll's face. For the first time since the fight had begun, the demon delivered a successful blow to the creature, dropping it to one knee.

Meg laughed and twirled to look back at Castiel, "What do you have to say now, angel?" No answer. "You better talk now, because I have a ball gag with your name on it!" She laughed again.

Still not answering, Castiel just pointed behind her instead. Before she could turn all the way around, Meg was struck by an uppercut that launched her into the air. Once again, Meg created a hole in a wall when she crash landed, except this time it was in a whole another building. Variety is the spice of life, she thought darkly.

"Ffff- shit." What you thought Meg would say fuck again? Well Meg likes diversity in her cursing.

For the next five minutes, the fight went on with rounds just like that. Meg would get up after being knocked down and take the troll back on right before getting knocked down again. However, with each bout the demon landed more and more blows on the troll. Now five minutes might not sound like a long time, but for two supernatural beings that could punch with the force of a locomotive, it was an epic battle.

After what must of have been the seventh time of getting laid out on her back, Meg was in the middle of the street again. She felt the angel behind her this time before he saw him. The power of Castiel's Grace crackled in the air like static electricity. He had stopped being amused Meg's situation and was now genuinely concern. It was both sweet and sickening at the same time. She couldn't blame him. If their situations had been reversed, she would have already jumped in the fight. Castiel, however, was good to his word, well unless your name was Crowley. Oh, he would intervene if she got into real trouble, but it would be at the last minute.

"Meg," Castiel used the demon's name as an appeal for her to allow him to get in the fight.

"Back off, Cas!" She yelled as she stood up to face the troll down yet again.

The troll limped over to where Meg was. Its face had black green blood running down from a broken nose. To be honest, it was an improved look for the hideous creature. The troll paused for a second to stare amazingly at the tiny demon that just would not go down. It just simply could not believe how well the demon had fought when she was so far outside its weight class.

Meg rushed the troll while it stood gawking, roaring all the while she did. The creature made a two arm grab at the demon, but missed when Meg sled under its legs. Getting behind the troll, Meg sprang up and jumped on the thing's back. She wrapped her arms around the troll's neck in a choke hold. Next, she tried to lock her legs around the beast's large waist. By no means was she completely successful, but she gained enough leverage to keep the troll from ripping her off its back. Unlike demons and angels, trolls did need to breathe and blood flow to their brain. In less than thirty seconds, Meg felt the troll's knees begin to buckle.

"No, no, no! Fall the other way!" Meg pleaded. However, fortune was once again unkind to her as the troll fell backwards, pinning the demon under its massive weight. "Goddamn it," Meg groaned as she wriggled herself out under the unconscious creature.

When she finally got free, Castiel was standing nearby. He looked at the knocked out troll in amazement. Meg grabbed his tie, after she regained her feet.

"You're mine!" Meg practically snarled. Her bared teeth couldn't have been classified as a smile, unless you count a shark's grin as such. As for Castiel's part, he seemed not to notice Meg as he continued to stare in astonishment at the troll.

"How did you?" he began to ask.

Meg looked over her shoulder at the fallen troll and then back at the angel. She shrugged her shoulders, "Ever heard of a rope a dope?" Of course, he hadn't. "Rumble in the Jungle, Ali vs. Foreman," she said in the way of explanation, "sometimes stamina beats brawn." The angel nodded slightly at the explanation. Without letting go of the tie, Meg stepped closer in to the angel.

"Speaking of stamina," she said softly, "you're going to need everything you got this week. So why don't you head back to the motel and get all the rest you can? I'll come for you shortly." She nodded toward the troll. "I'll clean this mess up." She let go of the angel's tie, slapped him on the ass, and walked to where the troll laid.

She paused when the angel remained in place and then looked over her shoulder at him. "Go . Now," she said. Once more, there was very little that gave away Castiel's feelings, but Meg saw it. The slight narrowing of his eyes and the small twitch in his jaw displayed his indignation at Meg's flippant tone. Yet, he said nothing before he disappeared right before her eyes. Meg smiled. Yeah, this was going to be fun.

Satisfied that he was gone, she turned back her attention to the troll. Meg peered down at the gigantic beast for a moment, before she gave it a swift kick to its side. "Alright you can get up now," she said. The huge monster stirred and growled before it sat up in an Indian style position, which put it at eye level with Meg.

The troll spoke in its native guttural language. One of the cool things about being a demon or an angel was coming with a natural universal translator. Pretty Star Trek, huh? Meg could understand the troll's language but lacked the ability to speak it herself. As for the troll, Meg didn't know how it understood English. Maybe, it just had learned it over the ages, or perhaps, it had been taught. Although, the most likely explanation was: who really gives a shit?

"Oh, don't be a pussy," Meg answered the troll, "you clocked me pretty good yourself back there too." It growled out its reply.

"Yeah, yeah. I got your stuff, " she said. With her head, she gestured to her right at the Coors Light trucked parked at the gas station. "There's your beer." Then she gestured over her left shoulder to a refrigerated truck that delivered seafood outside of a grocery store. "There's your fish. All you could want." Meg glared at the troll before continuing, "You remember our agreement, right? If I ever see you again, I'll put you down for real the next time." The creature spat out something in acknowledgement.

Castiel might be good at many things, but thinking like a monster wasn't one of them. Meg had tracked down the troll in a matter of no time and had made this little arrangement of theirs. For a truck load of beer and fish, the troll would take a dive in their fight, go back to wherever the hell it came, and stay for good. It hadn't taken much more than some questions and flirtations with local store owners to find out the regular beer and food shipments she would need for her bribe. As previously stated, Meg had won this bet even before the contest had begun.

With a few grunts, the troll offered to share some of its fish with her. Meg smiled even more as she just loved to be handed openings to one-liners like that.

"No thanks," Meg said, "I'm having wings tonight." And with that Meg was off to claim her prize.

**The End**

_Author's notes: I'll be honest. I just really wanted to write a story with Meg and Castiel shit talking to each other, and it was fun. _


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